Watching The Clock

by Philip Brady

What am I?

A computer to think,

An engine to go,

A windmill to trap

And convert C 2 0.

An incinerator designed

With its own gastric tract,

A renal distillery

Its regatta to enact.

Muscles so strong

Must do what they’re told,

A skeletal frame

Their strength to withhold.

A cosmetic skin

To disguise the whole lot

Where it’s all tied together

With an umbilical knot.

I’m looking at mirrors

And sanitized stands,

And a clock that’s indifferent

To the time on its hands,

But deep in recesses

Where mysteries unfold

I am thinking the thoughts

That belong to the soul.

Philip Brady

Philip Brady is a doctor and poet who lives in Edenderry, Ireland
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